


Six Things

by moodymarshmallow



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Mutual Masturbation, One Shot, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 09:42:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodymarshmallow/pseuds/moodymarshmallow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bethany and Isabela share a night at the Blooming Rose, and Bethany finds out what those "six things" are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Things

Garrett could never know. As Bethany had learned in the past, older brothers only ever saw younger sisters as helpless little girls in pigtails, in need of constant protection and observation, never to wander too far from brother’s watchful eye. When she was six that had been endearing, but at eighteen all it did was remind her that Garrett would never see her as an adult, as a woman with her own mind and her own heart. It wasn’t up to her brother to make personal decisions for her, but if he knew what she was planning, he would have locked her up with Gamlen for the rest of her life.

She couldn’t have that, so she sent the letter anonymously, carefully making sure that it was completely irresistible. It didn’t take much to attract Isabela’s attention, but Bethany’s was wary—if her brother intercepted the message, she wouldn’t get another chance.   
  
Madame Lusine didn’t like the idea of giving up a room without selling the services of one of the prostitutes, but the sovereigns that Bethany offered her changed her mind, and she ushered Bethany up the stairs to a room. It was small, but it was far cleaner than anything the Hanged Man had to offer, and unless Garrett was visiting that wide-eyed, red-headed elf, she would have complete privacy.   
  
Madame Lusine assured her that she would send Isabela up when she arrived, leaving Bethany to sit alone in the room while she waited. There was a bookshelf, which seemed out of place for a brothel, but it at least provided a small distraction from Bethany’s heart, which seemed to have migrated up to her throat to pound like a wardrum. She pulled a book off the shelf and opened it haphazardly, her eyes growing wide at the detailed drawings within. It made sense now why there was a whole shelf of these, and she replaced the book before sitting down on the bed, resolute. A lack of experience was no excuse, not when she could so clearly picture what it was that she wanted.   
  
Isabela was late, but fashionably so, throwing open the door with abandon, her gaze sparkling as it darted around the room, one brow raising when she saw Bethany sitting primly on the bed, her hands folded on her lap.   
  
“I have to say,” Isabela said with a wicked smile, closing the door behind her. “Of all the people I expected to be here, you were very low on the list.”   
  
“I’m sorry,” Bethany said lightly. “I didn’t mean for you to get your hopes up for someone else.”   
  
“Oh don’t be sorry, sweetness. I didn’t say I was disappointed, now did I?”   
  
Isabela was on the bed in a heartbeat, next to Bethany, stroking one curl off of her cheek with warm fingertips. “Your brother would be murderous if he knew you were here,” she whispered, brushing her lips over Bethany’s cheek, sweet and soft, light as a feather.   
“I know,” Bethany said, turning to meet Isabela’s dark eyes, wetting dry lips and taking a deep, slightly shaky breath. “But we won’t tell him.”   
  
“Oh sweetness, I knew you had it in you.” Isabela dragged a finger over Bethany’s lips, pleased when they parted and she could hear the hitch in her breath. She moved in slow, cupping Bethany’s soft cheek as she tilted her head, nearly pressing her lips to Bethany’s before she spoke again.   
  
“You once told me that men were only good for one thing, but that women were good for six.” Bethany’s pupils were large, and familiar desire blooming in her like spring growth, flowering like apple trees. “I want to know all six.”   
  
Isabela laughed, and it was like music.   
  
“Firstly, sweetness, women are patient.” Isabela reached up and untied the bandana that held back her hair, using her fingers to comb it out, one eye on Bethany to watch her reactions.   
  
“And men aren’t?”   
  
“Some are. Most men seem to think that the moment their prick is hard they need to try shoving it into something. They miss all the fun of slow anticipation.” Isabela placed the bandana on the side table and started working on her gloves, taking one buckle at a time. “We burn slow like candles, sweetness. Men erupt like wars.”   
  
Bethany watched each buckle as it was undone, the leather sliding out of the frame, then popping off of the tongue, the metal jingling quietly as both parts of the strap were separated from one another. As the long, buckled arm-guard came off, Bethany didn’t feel particularly patient, but she felt as though she knew what it was to burn.   
  
When Isabela’s hands and arms were bare, she reached up and touched the silk handkerchief around Bethany’s neck, her thumb resting lightly on her pulse, feeling it thump like a jackrabbit when she leaned in and pressed her lips lightly to Bethany’s. Bethany made a small noise, almost of surprise, but too husky and needy to be something so simple. They kissed chastely, Isabela’s lips firmly closed, and when she pulled away, Bethany’s pale cheeks were flushed rose.   
  
“Second thing,” Isabela said as she took Bethany’s hand in her own, lifting it to touch the laces that held tight her corset, a flirtatious smile on her pretty lips as she pressed them again to Bethany, this time to her cheek, then her ear. “Women are soft. Go on sweetness. You know you want to.”   
  
“I want to,” Bethany repeated, her voice no more than a tremorous whisper. Her fingers were clumsy at first, and Isabela’s breath on her ear was distracting, but with resolute focus she pulled out the laces, sighing in admiration as Isabela’s dark skin was exposed. It wasn’t as if Isabela covered much, but there was joy in the privacy, in knowing that right now, she was the only one who could see Isabela’s heavy breasts, dark nipples hardening when the air touched them. “Can I?” she asked, her voice small.   
  
“Anything you want.” Isabela lifted a hand to cup one of Bethany’s breasts through the soft white linen, and Bethany responded in kind, her fingers warm and gentle on Isabela’s bare breast as she explored, avoiding her nipple at first, then carefully running her fingers across it, as though she couldn’t help herself.   
  
Isabela had deft hands; the dark blue fabric around her waist was off and her dress was unlaced before Bethany even realized she was undressing, but when it was off, Bethany touched her eagerly, loving the silk of her skin and the darkness of it under her pale hands.   
  
“I dreamt of this,” she whispered into Isabela’s lips, her hands resting on her hips, fingering the black silk. “Ever since you told me that you…”   
  
“That I like women?” Isabela finished for her, pulling off Bethany’s belt and letting it fall to the floor in a clank. She cradled her cheek with one hand, kissing her deeply, finding her tongue and touching the tip of it with her own, nothing but a sweet distraction as she unlaced Bethany’s bodice and pulled it up, helping her out of the sleeves and tossing the whole thing to the side. “Trousers too, sweetness?” Isabela asked, sounding playfully disappointed. “You wear far too much.” Isabela eased Bethany onto her back, climbing over her to insinuate a leg firmly between her own, resting down her her elbows, her skin warm and soft against Bethany’s.   
  
“That’s only two things,” Bethany whispered. It felt as if she had no control over her own body, she pushed herself against Isabela’s thigh, gasping softly when the pressure sent shocks of pleasure through her, so she did it again, whimpering when Isabela removed her leg to straddle her.   
  
“Third; women know what women like,” Isabela said, a twinkle in her eye as she dropped her head down to kiss the space between Bethany’s breasts. She dragged her lips lightly to her tiny, blush pink nipple, and took it into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it slowly, raking back her mass of black hair to watch Bethany’s face. She caught her eyes, and her mouth, a perfect circle of surprise before she tossed her head back onto the pillow, her chest rising from sharp, deep breaths. Isabela moved down, deft fingers unlacing Bethany’s trousers and pushing them down, her lips curling sweetly when Bethany lifted her hips and helped. Isabela kissed her navel, dipping her tongue into it when her stomach jumped.   
  
“Fourth, women are delicious.” Isabela placed one soft kiss to the waist of Bethany’s smalls before moving down, taking in the warmth of her and the scent of her, moving her lips across the fabric as reverently as if it were Bethany’s skin. Hands on her legs, she parted them, her tongue hot on trembling thighs, nudging her lightly with her nose before running her tongue up the fabric, already damp from Bethany’s eager, unrestrained desire. Bethany gasped, and Isabela sighed pleasantly before climbing up her again, sliding her hand down her smalls and kissing her sweet and slow.   
  
Bethany was hot, tremendously wet and open, and every single stroke of Isabela’s long fingers was like joy, like presents, like stealing cookies and getting away with it, like running and running with the wind in her hair and nobody chasing her, just for the heat of sweat and the utter freedom, and when Isabela’s fingers moved up, sliding in slow circles around Bethany’s clit, Bethany cried out into Isabela’s mouth.   
  
“Not yet, sweetness,” Isabela purred. “We’re not done yet.” Then Isabela was between her legs again, pushing them apart though Bethany wanted to squeeze them together, pulling off her damp smalls and throwing them across the room. They landed on the bookshelf; Bethany laughed despite herself, the laughter dying when Isabela used her fingers to spread her lips and delve her tongue into the wetness, massaging Bethany’s thigh with her free hand. Again, Bethany felt that tightening, that ferocious heat, and she stroked Isabela’s head as she felt herself drawing close.   
  
It seemed like hours, like days, and when Isabela came up for air, looking for all the world like the cat who’d gotten the canary, Bethany was soaked with sweat, gasping for breath, her entire body buzzing like she was shot through with lightning, or set afire in harmless flames.   
  
“Oh, Isabela,” Bethany whispered while Isabela again worked her way up her body, kissing, licking, stroking, catlike and wild and beautiful, letting Bethany taste herself on her lips, not something she had ever thought to want to do.   
  
“Five; women have stamina.” Isabela traced absent patterns down Bethany’s side, smiling when Bethany’s eager hands slid over the black silk smalls, taking in a deep breath. “All for you sweetness,” Isabela whispered, her tongue delicate over the shell of Bethany’s ear.   
  
Later, when the sun was just coming up, after sleep interrupted by eager kisses and roaming hands, Bethany watched Isabela sleeping, the sun streaming in the window painting golden stripes on her dusky skin. She touched her cheek, brushed her fingers through her hair, and as Isabela’s dark, hungry eyes opened slowly, Bethany was sure she already knew what the sixth thing was, and that even if she hadn’t before, Isabela never would have needed to tell her. ****


End file.
